Today, The Sarnia Journal continues Stories from the Street II, a six-part series focusing on Sarnia’s homeless crisis, from journalist Cathy Dobson and photographer Glenn Ogilvie. Please join us each day this week to read about the unique circumstances of the men and women living rough in Sarnia.
Cathy Dobson
“I weep a lot. Maybe I’m emotional. I believe there are God moments when He offers people a way out. He offers grace even though they don’t deserve it.”
- Davin Lindfors, age 62, former engineer.
Davin Lindfors can laugh at himself.
And that’s really saying something given all that he’s lost.
“Money always came to me easily,” he says standing outside a Christina Street drop-in centre in a worn designer shirt and orange Oakley sunglasses. “I was a binge-type guy and liked the nicer things in life. I was a binge drinker, a binge gambler, binge whatever.
“You’ve heard that the man takes the drug and the drug takes the man? Well, I would get the money and throw it away.”
He says there was a time he was a successful engineer earning thousands of dollars a week, driving a BMW, having fun in his boat, and splitting his time between a condo in Washington State and another in San Diego.
At first his story seems outrageous.
He partied with Jack Nicholson, made HBO videos with James Franco and got drunk with Jeff Bridges, he says. It appears unbelievable, given the state of the man today. But the more Davin talks, the more it rings true.
For several decades after earning an engineering degree at Ryerson University (now MTU), he travelled extensively, worked lucrative contracts, and had an extravagant lifestyle.
During one contract with Nova Chemicals in Sarnia, he met his former partner and they had two children – the thing he says he’s most happy about.
But he was impetuous, losing a chunk of every paycheque to gambling. He was irresponsible; an absent parent much of the time; an addict.
Davin was working hard and playing harder. When he had a drug-induced stroke eight years ago, he lost much of his short-term memory and he lost his job.
He landed homeless in Toronto, living in shelters and trying to figure out how his life took such a turn.
Four years ago, still unable to work and having burned so many bridges, he returned to Sarnia and got a place to live with his long term disability cheques and assistance from the Inn of the Good Shepherd.
He also cut down on his drug abuse, he said.
At age 62, Davin takes one day at a time. He has a small apartment and chooses to hang out with people who live on society’s fringes. He’s a familiar face at Nightlight drop-in centre and is grateful for the people who helped him in recent years. He wants to reciprocate.
“I weep a lot,” Davin said. “Maybe I’m emotional. I believe there are God moments when He offers people a way out. He offers grace even though they don’t deserve it.”
In the early mornings, he often goes to a local beach to enjoy a coffee and find a little peace. “For a moment He has my attention,” he said. “I ask God to give me one simple thing to do every day, whether it’s to open a door for someone or let them talk, because I’m always the one talking.”
He recalled seeing a homeless woman passed out on a bench in Veteran’s Park last summer beside a wagon full of her belongings. He’d bought himself a sandwich that he was really looking forward to eating but decided instead to anonymously set it next to the woman with a small note that read, “You are loved.”
“I put it on the bench while she was asleep and sat there for a little while and made sure no one stole it,” he said.
“Who knows, maybe that one sentence she read might change her outlook on life. Maybe she was never loved.
“It’s those little things... I wouldn’t have come up with that. That’s not me.”
.